


Drifting

by moonflowers



Series: Harringrove Holiday Prompts [5]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy works at the library, Christmas, Holidays, Kinda, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Pre-Relationship, Snowed In, Soft Boys, Tumblr Prompt, trapped together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: It's snowing real hard when Steve heads to the library.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Harringrove Holiday Prompts [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1211943
Comments: 20
Kudos: 149





	Drifting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #7 Blizzard from the Harringrove Holiday Exchange prompt list. This turned into a full on AU, jeez. And boy is this soft.

Steve hadn’t been to the library in years; like, literally longer than he could even remember. The school library, sure, when he’d let Nance drag him along to study with her or whatever. But that didn’t count. It wasn’t the public library in town, with its weird dusty paper smell and mint green walls that you had to make the active decision to stroll right on in to. And he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to finally make the trip there either; snow was coming down thick and fast, it was almost dark, and he probably shouldn’t have even been on the road. But he was on his way home from work and he’d already decided to make a start that afternoon, and he really didn’t want it to stretch over two days, so… now was the time.

He was thinking of going to school again next year. Wasn’t sure where yet – probably somewhere close, just y’know, in case – or even what he wanted to study, but he knew that whatever he decided on he needed to get his head back in the game. Nance and Robin had both given him a list of books that might be helpful for him to look through and make a few notes. But he wasn’t all that jazzed about hitting the books again, to be honest. Shaking loose snow off his shoulders, he cast a vague look over the holiday events pinned to the notice board in hopes of putting off the inevitable, before he trudged up to the front desk. If he was lucky, the nice lady he vaguely recalled from years before would still be there, and wouldn’t mind him asking for help so late in the day.

No such luck.

Behind the wide, tinsel-decorated desk was exactly the last person in Hawkins Steve had expected to see; Billy Hargrove, elbow on the desktop and pencil between his teeth, frowning as he thumbed through a dauntingly thick looking book.

“What are _you_ doing here?” He blurted before he could help himself. It was a habit Dustin told him he should work on, which Steve thought was a bit rich coming from him, but sure.

Hargrove looked caught out for all of two seconds, guilty even, before he delicately smoothed it away into put-upon exasperation. Billy of last year might have yelled at him. But then he also thought Billy of last year would rather be dead than be seen setting foot in the library, so. “I work here, Harrington. And hello to you too, asshole,” he shook his head. _“Jesus.”_

“Oh. I… didn’t know.” The kids _must_ have known – Max would have at least, and surely would have told the others. And like, they went to the library regularly, for _fun_. A fuckin’ heads up might have been nice.

“Yeah, no shit,” Hargrove said, and bit back a yawn. He looked a little tired; not in the sickly, exhausted kinda way he’d looked when they’d first let him out of the hospital, but just in need of a nap. Sleepy and soft around the edges, wearing a thick sweater despite the heating in the library being turned up full whack.

“That’s… cool.”

“It’s just part time,” he mumbled, looked sort of ashamed of it, and _no,_ Steve was not having that. It wasn’t like they were great friends or anything, but after July, and what he did for them all, he was… glad to see the other boy getting himself back together. He’d been noticing, over the past few months, as he picked up Max or exchanged awkward hellos with him at the video store, that perhaps Hargrove wasn’t so terrible anymore. Steve actually _liked_ seeing him, when their paths crossed. It was something Robin had had very strong opinions about when Steve had admitted it to her, but that Steve personally wasn’t ready to dwell on.

“No, I mean it.”

Hargrove blinked at him, unimpressed, but a little pink in the face. “Whatever. Can I help you with something, or…?”

“Oh right, yeah. I um, I have a list,” he feebly held out the crumpled sheet of paper torn hastily from Nancy’s notebook, “but I have no idea where to start. Could you maybe uh, give me a hand?”

Hargrove rolled his eyes but took the paper, chewed absently on his lip as he read down the list, nodding when he reached the end. “Sure thing, pretty boy. Come on.”

The next fifteen minutes passed in comfortable quiet, Hargrove leading Steve through the shelves, stopping every now and then to look at the list and pluck a book off the shelf, stacking them up higher and higher in Steve’s arms. God, he’d need hours to look through all those books. But as he watched Billy dig around on one of the lower shelves, pencil now behind his ear and tongue out in concentration, he thought that might not be so bad. Shame the library was due to close in half an hour.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Billy said once he’d gathered up a truly scary looking pile of books from Steve’s list.

Steve frowned. “I thought you weren’t allowed to anymore, after…” he cut himself off, not wanting to disturb the almost friendly atmosphere they had going.

“I’m not,” Billy said with a shrug, and slunk off towards the exit anyway.

Steve had barely cracked the first book open when Billy came back, looking agitated. “It’s gettin’ real bad out there,” he said, eyes on the dark sky out the window, “I don’t think we’re gonna be able to drive home in that.”

Steve’s initial reaction was to scoff; he knew Indiana winters a damn sight better than Billy did after all, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that Hargrove was overdramatic about the cold. But when he followed him out to the front doors to look out at the parking lot, he thought Billy was probably right to worry. It had only been half an hour or so since he’d gone in, but thick, deep piles of snow were already drifting up the side of his car, and he could barely see a foot in front of his face. Yeah, driving wasn’t happening any time soon, winter tyres or not.

They went back inside to wait a while and see if it eased off, Steve wondering if there was any point calling it in. Hawkins was used to snow, and everything was probably being dealt with as best it could be. Steve half-heartedly flipped through the books, eye catching briefly on any with pictures, and made the odd, probably useless note.

He spent more time looking at Billy than the books. Hargrove was worlds more interesting. He tipped himself back on two chair legs while he read the book Steve had caught him with at the front desk, lit up in red and green flashes from the Christmas lights strung along the back wall of the library. He knew Billy was smart – they’d had a few classes together – but he’d never struck Steve as a reading for pleasure kinda dude. He wanted to get him talking again.

“So um, you like it here?” Probably about the dumbest opener in the world, but it worked.

Billy looked at him flatly over the dog-eared pages of his book. “Yes Harrington, that’s why I work here, _Jesus.”_

“Only asking.” There was a beat of silence while Hargrove visibly battled with himself over whether to say anything more.

“I was hanging out here a lot after… _after,”_ he said hesitantly, “one day Ms Lieberman asked if I’d be interested in helping out.”

And it sort of amazed Steve that the nice librarian lady trusted big bad Billy Hargrove to lock up, but again, he’d seen him in action at school – could get an extension on a paper just by batting his eyelashes. Not that he ever seemed to need the extra time. And despite the town not knowing the truth about what happened in July, Billy had still emerged from it a hero in the local paper. In reality, was more of a hero than they knew. But still, being a handsome young man tragically injured while helping rescue kids from a burning building had most likely upped his reliability in the eyes of any potential employers. “Well, that’s good, man. Suits you more than I thought it might.”

“Hm,” was all he got in reply. Then, “what are all the books for?”

“Oh,” he looked down at the book in front of him that he had yet to read a single word of. “Thinking of going back to school.”

Billy nodded. “Good for you.”

With that, Hargrove went back to his book, and Steve went back to pretending to look at his book, but really got back to watching Billy. The heat was turned up high, probably in an attempt to reach the drafty corners of the high ceiling, but from where Steve was sitting, it was just too much. The fake heat the system was chucking out was thick and dusty, made Steve’s lips feel too dry and his head swim. He tried breathing a little deeper, but it just made him feel more nauseous. He pushed the sleeves of his sweater up and shook his hair out of his face, tried to concentrate.

It wasn’t long after that that a movement from Hargrove caught his eye. He was peeling off his sweater – the heat must have gotten to him too – leaving him in the cut-off grey shirt he’d been wearing in the infamous picture of him they’d had tacked up on the staff board at the pool. He only knew because that shit had gotten stolen so many times; he’d regularly seen girls whip a copy of it out of their purses or folded up from their jean pockets to moon at it over a sundae at Scoops. The white sunburst scars on Billy’s belly were visible as he tilted back in his chair, glowering at Steve and daring him to say something. He didn’t, but mostly because he was afraid he’d say too much, and Billy would _know._

“You know half the town has a copy of that picture of you from the pool, right?”

Billy snorted. “Yeah. I saw a girl usin’ it as a bookmark in here last week. And Max used to whine at me about a couple girls in her class having it taped up inside their lockers,” he wrinkled his nose. “It’s weird.”

“Nah, man,” Steve said, “I think it’s cute.”

“Oh really,” Billy smirked at him, discomfort from a second ago blown out of the water as he leaned across the table. “You got one at home too, Harrington? Stashed away under your pillow?”

And Steve knew he was only joking, but he actually kinda wished he did. Billy was still leering at him, but with none of the anger that he’d had in school; lazy and half-laughing, scarred hands drumming on the tabletop. He was leaning close enough that Steve could feel the heat rolling off him, close and warm and _alive_ , and Steve knew what he’d done, knew he’d almost died to save them all, and he was brave and beautiful and… “No,” he said softly. “But it’s still a cute picture.”

The smile dropped right off of Billy’s face as he stared across the table at Steve. He smelt a little like his forbidden cigarette and a little like grape flavour candy, mouth slack and eyes bright and face flushed in the false heat, and Steve couldn’t help himself but think, _this might be it._

“Steve…”

“Anyone in here?”

A cheery shout echoed around the bookshelves, and the two of them jumped in their seats. A second later, and Officer Callahan appeared from around the corner, wrapped up against the cold and a cup of coffee in hand.

“There you are,” he said, shaking snow off his boots. “Heard it from Janet you’ve been locking up for her lately, Hargrove.”

“…Yeah,” Billy said, voice a little thick. Steve didn’t trust himself to speak at all.

“Well, I’ve been calling around any place I can reach on foot, to let anybody stranded know it’s stopped snowing and they’re about to get the plow up here,” he said, “so you boys should be able to head home soon.”

“Okay,” Steve just about managed a smile, “um, thanks officer.”

He tipped them a hasty wave before heading back out into the snow. Steve had all of a few seconds to feel bitterly disappointed, more disappointed than he had any right to be, that the little almost moment had slipped away. But then Billy was talking.

“Hey, you uh… you home alone tonight?”

“Yeah.” His parents were away until Christmas Eve, and Robin wouldn’t want to ditch her dad in the bad weather.

“I just…” he drummed his fingers on the table again, a quick rolling pat-pat-pat, and looked about as nervous as Steve had ever seen him. “Susan’s making chili and it’ll probably be shit, but it’ll be hot, y’know? After all this blizzard bullshit,” he cast a dark look out of the window, as though the snow had fallen specifically to spite him, “we probably need it, right?”

“It was hardly a _blizzard…”_

“And Max’ll be happy to see you, even though she’ll pretend like she doesn’t give a shit,” Billy said, like Steve hadn’t been going to say yes the second the words had left Billy’s mouth.

“That’d be cool,” Steve said, “I haven’t seen Mad Max in a while.”

Billy blinked, smiled at him. “Okay, then.”

If Billy wanted to pretend it was for his sister’s benefit rather than his own, that was fine by Steve. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to say it all out loud just yet, but that was okay. It was enough to know that he hadn’t missed his chance after all.


End file.
